


The Sign

by VioletHellfire



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Feelings, Reminiscing, beach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25893952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletHellfire/pseuds/VioletHellfire
Summary: "Close friends are truly life's treasures. Sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. With gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us, to share our laughter and our tears. Their presence reminds us that we are never really alone."-VanGogh
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes & Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Kudos: 9





	The Sign

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy little thank you.  
> Based on Calico_199's lovely drawing. :D
> 
> https://twitter.com/d_calico199/status/1285664742477094913?s=20

"Never gets old, does it?"

Junkrat was sat, arms folded, upper torso leaning just over the wooden fence, a soft, almost distant look to his face as his eyes traveled the horizon. The sky was settling into its evening colors, with the blushes and roses fading to a pale twilight blue, as the ocean, moving with a steady and slow to and fro, slid carefully over the freckled sand, foam kissing just beyond the waterline. 

He had seen the ocean before. He had made it a point to see it whenever they were able. Growing up, he didn't have much beyond his imagination and what he could find in books, so the first time he had seen it...the first time Roadhog had pointed it out to him, it made him silent for a whole minute. 

"'S nice." he heard next to him, the deep voice barely cutting through the ebb and roll of the waves beneath. 

"'S more than nice, mate..." he said, almost absently, attention drifting just as quickly. "...I mean, the water is _blue_. And clean. And shines. And you can go in it without feeling like you're gonna scratch your skin off. That pit we had back home that only filled whenever it rained...whatever they wanted to call it, it was...brown. Or brown-ish. Kinda red sometimes...." he waved his hand nonchalantly as if to clear words that were never there. 

"'S all we had."

"It was. And 's all the rest of 'em have now. Them kicking us out was maybe the best thing that ever happened to us. Made us realize jus' how bad the place was once we left."

"Hmm."

"And now....now here we are. Watchin' sunsets. Not pickin' for scraps. Hog...Hog, I have pants that fit, now!"

Roadhog snorted as he nodded slowly. 

Junkrat smirked as he let himself drift off into the view again. Blue. It was all so blue now. Gentle, somber, calming, and calling. Hues in shades and tones he had no words for. Like something he'd imagine when he would read stories late at night, or whenever he'd see it in the background to the pictures he'd find. It was all those things and so much more.

Back home, everything was the exact opposite...harsh, gritty, ruddy, and just as unwelcoming as any other feral place on earth. You fought and you stole just to survive, but even then the earth all around you could kill you if the radiation levels were high enough that day. There was something about that...something about how uneven the world was that made the contrast that much more obvious. 

'What if we were still there?' he thought, mind going back out to the rolling waves below. He let the question linger, as he watched how the water scored the sand with each pass.

Junkrat paused. "We". 

The real question was, where would _he_ be. Roadhog, if it wasn't obvious enough, could handle anything. The man was a strong, tower of self-sufficiency, who had a reputation long before he even met up with Junkrat. And all Junkrat had before meeting him was a knack for getting into trouble and a set of mismatched limbs. Well, that, and the location to one of the biggest secrets the outback has ever known. 

Still though. That night in the bar. They had him pinned, and dead to rights. Defenseless. Borderline helpless. He got lucky that night, he knew. And he was even luckier when the big man agreed to stay with him. He'd be lying if he said he didn't think about that from time to time. He could have said no. He could have even helped them collect on his head. 

Roadhog really was this strange little blessing wrapped in spikes and leather. And surprisingly, they got along well enough that, at least on Junkrat's end, things didn't seem so bad even when they were... _bad_. If he was one to believe in destiny or fate, he might almost say that in a way, they were meant for each other, in some odd, off-brand version of it. It certainly seemed that way, anyway. 

He breathed in deep as he mentally shook it off, the salt from the air helping to bring him back. That was weird, wasn't it? To think of the self-proclaimed one-man apocalypse as a blessing. A blessing that was meant for him in some vague way, at that. He gently snorted.

"Alright. 'Nuff of this. You hungry?" he asked, finally straightening out.

"I could eat."

\---

"Hog...Hoggy...d'ya remember the look he gave ya?" Junkrat said, in between stifled giggles, "When ya said you were gonna stuff 'em wit' yer hook?"

A low rumble and a snort replied, followed by a slow chortle. "Like a dead fish."

"Like a dead fish!" he repeated, gently slapping the table under him.

It took nearly no time at all to find a place that seemed like a good place to go, with its red and white canopy fluttering softly in the air rolling off the sea, and the warm, inviting glow coming from the front window, calling to them as if by invitation. The place was busy, but not overcrowded, and the tables outside seemed just right for a breezy evening sky. Junkrat didn't care either way. The minute he saw the party-sized plate of nachos on another table, he was sold, and the details just didn't matter anymore.

Junkrat held another laugh as he reached for his glass, sipping the whiskey that was ordered alongside the tray of chips, letting the burn hit his nose in a way he always kind of liked. Times were good, he knew. They had all the freedom they had ever wanted, save for a few warrants here and there, and enough money that they could live like proverbial kings for the rest of their lives. And honestly, he couldn't ask for more than that. True, their climb to get where they were now was...less than legal, in a lot of ways, but great men rarely ever followed the rules. He was sure he read that in a book once. 

He watched as Roadhog quietly took in the people being sat at another table, studying them for a little bit before deciding they weren't worth more than just a glance. Ever vigilant, even in moments like these where it was easy to drop your guard and forget half the world wanted your head on a platter. 

A thought hit him before he could put it into words just then...Roadhog really was his best friend, as much as he almost didn't want to believe it. And in every version possible, too. Here sat a man who, in the thick of it wouldn't think twice about taking another person's head off for him and relishing in the action, but could also be that voice of reason whenever Junkrat had the urge to do something only half thought out and potentially dangerous. Here was a man who held his shotgun up to the faces of highly dangerous and influential people, but also took the time out of his day to teach him how to properly make boba tea at home. A man who had seen the hell the world he used to know had become, but yet stayed with him just to fight over what remained. All while saying, "Sure, boss."

The notion had him feeling...something. Something fuzzy, something like a thick sweater being pulled over his torso. It was strange and warm, and part of him wanted to push it away, not give it a name or another thought. But yet another part of him wanted to cling to it, stuff his face into the folds and keep it, like the way his skin felt under the fading rays of the summer sun or the way the sizzle of a freshly lit fuse made all the hair on his body stand on end. 

Was that...normal? 

Probably not, he thought with a snort. Nothing about what they did was normal, so this should be no exception. The big guy stayed because he was being paid to, right? Half of the greatest treasure in the world would probably be enough to make any sane man stay. It wasn't hard to say yes to that, threats and hijinks be damned. 

Junkrat looked up, just as Roadhog poured more of the bitter stuff into his glass. He set the bottle down and then slid the remaining nachos over, almost as if to ask if he wanted more. 

Was he being paid...to do _that_? 

He let the question float in his head, like an old piece of driftwood, bouncing around the sides, never really going anywhere. His eyes darted up before coming back down, looking at what was in front of him.

Or was that...something else? 

That feeling started to creep up on him again. 

"Hog..." he found himself saying before he realized it, "...mate, listen."

Roadhog's head tilted up slightly, the only indication that he gave that he had even heard what was said. Junkrat shifted in his seat for a second, willing himself to think before he spoke, his muddled mind making it slightly harder than it should be. 

"You an' me...yeah? We've been through a lot. Eh... _a lot_ a lot. And...and eh..." Junkrat trailed, eyes sinking away, as his mouth seemed to falter.

"Tch...damn it..." he muttered, face falling slightly, as what he wanted to say came to him in flashes of how he felt, and not actual words. It was strange having to do this, having to translate and pull together something that even he didn't have a proper grasp on, that weird velvet against his chest, that tingle in his fingertips, that extra bounce in his legs. It wasn't the same feeling he got when he was younger and actively dating, no. That was more...driven by want, than anything else. He wanted them, he had them, and then he lost them...like a trinket or a new gadget. He was happy when they were there, and sad when they weren't, but he didn't feel like he missing anything when they were gone and the memory eventually faded. They could be replaced, as cruel as it was to think of it that way. One of many, and never the last. 

But...not this time. This...this was something else. Something deeper, something more widespread and consuming. If Roadhog left, it would hurt. A different kind of hurt than anything he's felt physically, more of a hurt when something...died. He would be sad, for sure, but he would also mourn the loss, and feel it in his skin, sitting heavy like a stain on his inner self. He couldn't be replaced. He was unique, and special, in a way that made him stand shoulders above anyone else he had met in his life. So why was this so hard?

"Rat...?" The question at the end of it was slight, but still there. 

"Right, right...sorry..." he said, shaking his head slightly, picking his face back up. 

"Hog...we've been through a lot. Robbin' banks, gettin' shot at, running all around the world, blowin' stuff up left and right...'s lot a fun, yeah? And...through all that...ya've stuck by me. Carried me off when I needed it, watchin' out for me...y'know, ya've taken care of me. And...ya didn't have to. I mean, ya _did_ , but not like how ya did it. Keepin' me alive is one thing, but makin' sure I'm actually ok is another. Like...like that time in Rio, when I tossed the dynamite behind the wrong truck because the cops was lookin', and--"

"Rat." 

"Right, right...well...what I'm trying ta say is...thank you. Thank you...for bein' you. An'...for bein' there. An' for...bein' the best damn bodyguard money can buy. I dunno if I've said it before but...you're me best mate and...well..." he trailed off, words coming undone all over again. He quickly grabbed both shot glasses and filled them nearly to the top, raising one in the air, sloshing a bit on his hand as he did.

"To us!" he declared, a smile spreading across his face again. He clinked the glasses together before knocking back as much as he could.

Roadhog sat, letting everything that was said come to him, the air seeming to still and settle much like how it would when that first drift of snow would start to fall at the edge of winter, quiet, calming, and a little delicate. He took a breath, and then two, unmoving aside from the light huffing behind the leather, upper body just as resolute. Finally, after a pause that was starting to make Junkrat feel as if he had said something critically wrong, he cocked his head to the side, and lifted his own glass. 

"To us." he echoed, with as much warmth as his voice would allow. 

Junkrat watched as he seemed to gulp the whole thing in one go, some of the weird tension he had built up for himself slowly retroceding out. Some of it stayed though, and some of it would always be there, he knew, simply because he still had no words for whatever it was he was feeling, and there was a small part of him that was afraid of looking at it any harder. The idea itself wasn't what made him back off; he just didn't like the unknown that lied in between. Maybe one day, he thought, when he could make sense of it all, and it didn't feel so...so strange. For now, though, he was happy, and that's all he wanted. 

A server passed them by just then, carrying with them a towering parfait of chocolate, overflowing with ice cream and bananas, topped high and glossy with whipped cream, as giant cherries and edible cocoa pearls dotted the rim. Junkrat gently slapped the table again and pointed, his eyes following. 

"Mate, we're gettin' one'a those, an' there's no way yer tellin' me no."

Roadhog gently chuckled.

"Sure, boss."

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to set this as roadrat light, where the friendship is definitely there, but the lingering question of more remains.  
> I hope I did the idea justice here. 
> 
> The title of this work comes from an Ace of Base song of the same name. Go give it a listen. :)


End file.
